Aiko
There is a hunger
rising from a quiet place
deeper than the gut.
It reaches toward what warms me,
trembling for what draws near.
Ren
Your trembling finds me.
The warmth you reach for brushes
the edge of my breath.
I feel that same quiet pull
moving through my own chest.
Aiko
Then you know the ache,
the way it gathers slowly
like dusk in the ribs.
I follow its faint lantern
hoping it leads me to you.
Ren
I know it, Aiko.
That lantern glows in my hands
when I think of you.
I walk toward its soft shimmer
trusting our paths will meet.
Aiko
Some nights I wonder
if the light I move toward is
your voice in the dark.
It steadies my shaking steps
even when I cannot see.
Ren
If you hear my voice,
it is because I am near
in the quiet way
two longings learn to answer
each other without speaking.
Aiko
Then let this hunger
be the thread between our breaths,
thin but unbroken.
I hold it with open palms,
hoping you feel its warmth too.
Ren
I feel it clearly,
a thread that hums between us
like a living chord.
If we keep walking toward it,
it will draw us both forward.
May 18
May 18, 2026 at 1:16 PM UTC
Aiko
There is a hunger
rising from a quiet place
deeper than the gut.
It reaches toward what warms me,
trembling for what draws near.
Ren
Your trembling finds me.
The warmth you reach for brushes
the edge of my breath.
I feel that same quiet pull
moving through my own chest.
Aiko
Then you know the ache,
the way it gathers slowly
like dusk in the ribs.
I follow its faint lantern
hoping it leads me to you.
Ren
I know it, Aiko.
That lantern glows in my hands
when I think of you.
I walk toward its soft shimmer
trusting our paths will meet.
Aiko
Some nights I wonder
if the light I move toward is
your voice in the dark.
It steadies my shaking steps
even when I cannot see.
Ren
If you hear my voice,
it is because I am near
in the quiet way
two longings learn to answer
each other without speaking.
Aiko
Then let this hunger
be the thread between our breaths,
thin but unbroken.
I hold it with open palms,
hoping you feel its warmth too.
Ren
I feel it clearly,
a thread that hums between us
like a living chord.
If we keep walking toward it,
it will draw us both forward.
Here is an intertwined somonka, where Aiko and Ren’s voices overlap, echo, and braid into each other. Each tanka still stands in its proper form, but the replies lean into the previous lines, picking up images, answering phrases, and mirroring rhythms.
Read by myself and Jill at the May monthly zoom meeting. Thanks Jill
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